


Firsts

by scarrletmoon



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:39:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27790117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarrletmoon/pseuds/scarrletmoon
Summary: Aoba Johsai doesn't lose often, but when they do, Oikawa puts on a brave face - at least, until he's alone with Iwaizumi.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Kudos: 32





	Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> Another one from the vault (Jan 2016). I can't remember if there was a prompt for this or what but I have a vague feeling that I wrote this after reading SuggestiveScribe's work and I love their Oikawa. Unfortunately, I am not nearly as good at writing Oikawa or titling things 
> 
> But I just wanted to write a little soft Oikawa/Iwaizumi :(

Losing was never easy. For Aoba Johsai, losing meant heavy, frustrated silence. Losing meant avoiding each other’s eyes because they couldn’t bear to see disappointment mirrored in each other’s faces. For Tohru, Hajime knew, losing this badly meant wondering if he’d wasted his time training so hard for something he loved so deeply. 

The team filtered out of the locker room slowly, dejectedly, leaving Hajime sitting on the hard metal bench in the middle of the room, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for Tohru to finish wallowing in the shower but mostly thinking about how he could have been better.

He was so lost in his own thoughts that it took him at least a minute to realize that the sound of the shower was gone and that Tohru had joined him on the bench. Being around other guys in various states of undress had never really bothered Hajime but Tohru was different now - he was hyper-aware of the heat of Tohru’s skin, the steam and water, the way Tohru’s hair curled as it dried, his flushed cheeks. Hajime couldn’t look at him. 

“I guess this is it,” Tohru said, in that off-hand way with that smile that Hajime knew meant that he was still trying to pretend that he wasn’t hurting as much as he actually was. It made something clench in Hajime’s gut, something thick and unpleasant and all too familiar. 

Tohru leaned forwards, rested his elbows on his bare knees and stared at the floor. He was quiet for a long time, long enough that the air cooled and the steam started to clear but not long enough for the anxiety deep in Hajime’s gut to disappear. 

Tohru stood then, and Hajime - still determinedly, frustratedly glaring up at the ceiling- heard his towel flutter to the ground. Hajime swallowed once and tried to ignore the sounds of Tohru dressing. 

“Iwaizumi,” Tohru said, forcing Hajime to look at him. He had his pants on at least, although with his back turned and no shirt on, Hajime could see the sharp lines of Tohru’s bare shoulder blades, the movement of his muscles under his skin, his toned arms.

Beautiful.

“Thanks,” Tohru continued, fiddling with the laces in the waistband of his tracksuit bottoms. “For sticking with me all this time.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Hajime muttered, turning his eyes back to Tohru’s discarded towel on the floor. He picked it up and carefully folded it, even though one of the corners had fallen into a puddle of water and it was too wet to warrant folding in the first place. He needed something to do with his hands. 

Tohru chuckled, which wasn’t unusual, but uncommon enough for Hajime to feel a little more uneasy. It was a soft, vulnerable kind of laugh, not the one Tohru put on for his adoring fans. Hiding his feelings for the past few months wasn’t making this any easier. Dealing with a lost match didn’t help. “Just let me believe you did,” Tohru said, finally pulling his shirt on over his head. Hajime let go of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. 

With the floor relatively drier, Hajime figured it was safe enough to put his socks and shoes on while Tohru packed up his own things. They were quiet again for a while, the room devoid of sound except for the shuffle of clothes and then, “I really mean it,” Tohru was saying, but his voice was shaking and Hajime’s head spun around so fast, his neck hurt. “Thank you, Hajime.”

Hajime usually hesitated whenever someone started crying around him because he was never sure if he was the right person to turn to for comfort. He was always just a little too stiff and awkward to soothe anybody so he tended to step back and hope someone better could come along. There was always someone better. But Tohru was different and he always had been; with Tohru, he didn’t think twice about closing the distance between them, taking Tohru’s face in his hands and tilting his face up. 

Tohru sniffed. He smiled and Hajime couldn’t help feeling a little annoyed at the fact that Tohru still looked so beautiful even with eyes rimmed red with tears. “You’re so gentle when you want to be.”

“You make it hard to want to be sometimes,’ Hajime murmured, wiping away Tohru’s tears with his thumbs. His fingers were rough against Tohru’s skin but he didn’t seem to mind. 

“Maybe I should cry more often then,” Tohru said wryly, and Hajime sighed so he wouldn’t laugh. 

“Don’t push your luck.” 

Tohru smiled and then his expression softened, his gaze far more intimate than Hajime had ever seen it. It made something under his skin hum, not unpleasantly. Tohru brought up a hand to cover the one on his cheek, tilted his head into Hajime’s touch and asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Hajime’s heart stopped, thumped once, twice and then started up again in double time. He was suddenly painfully aware of the sweat on his palms, the loud thump of his heartbeat, every bead of sweat on his body. “Yes,” he said, stumbling, stupidly, even though he’d known Tohru for years and had been in love with him for probably just as long- 

And then Tohru was there, lips pressed against his, warm and soft from the shower, a little nervous but persistent. Hajime tilted his head and Tohru let him lead, slowly, parting his lips, putting his free hand on Hajime’s waist and slipping into a string of slow, soft kisses. At one point they broke apart just long enough for Tohru to thank him again and then they were together again, alone, just for a moment. 


End file.
